


give me one tall ship to sail

by Eussoros



Series: Shipwright AU [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, EVERYTHING IS NICE AND FINE AND SOFT OK, F/F, F/M, IronQrow, M/M, Mention of abuse, Qrow Branwen is a femme fatale don't @ me, Tags will be updated, confused flirting noises, discussion of terminal illness, sometimes a family is two men and every fucked up kid they can dad at
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22569565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eussoros/pseuds/Eussoros
Summary: When James drove up to the workshop at Patch Boatworks, he wasn’t sure what to expect. He certainly didn’t expect to fall for a dusty stranger’s wide, warm grin.Shipwright ironqrow AU. It's gonna be soft AF.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood, Raven Branwen/Summer Rose/Taiyang Xiao Long
Series: Shipwright AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016235
Comments: 44
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Hero's Song, by Julia Ecklar
> 
> Any resemblance to existing boatshops is ENTIRELY INCIDENTAL. If you recognize it, for the love of dignity, keep that to yourself. Please.
> 
> That said, enjoy!

When James drove up to the workshop at Patch Boatworks, he wasn’t sure what to expect. He’d been in big shipyards plenty, during his time in the Navy, but the civilian small craft industry was a mystery to him. From the outside, the workshop was smaller than what he had been braced for; but if the little sailboat sitting outside under an open shelter was anything to go by, “small craft” was small indeed. 

He took a moment to admire the sailboat. It was a pretty little thing, all white paint and dark wood, for all that it was clearly not done. A short trunk of wood took the place of the mast, its keel seemed abruptly cut off, and the lovely white of its planks were marred with bright yellow lines. 

He was stalling. He knew it. The quiet that surrounded the shop was strange to his ears. No sounds of hammering or sawing or power tools echoed from the shop, though there was one other car parked beside his. For all he could hear, he was alone with the sighing wind. 

Stalling. Again. 

Sighing, he checked to ensure that the glove on his right hand hadn’t ridden up, and pulled open the door of the shop. 

The workshop was wide and open, full of dust dancing through beams of light which fell from the high windows and onto bare hulls. James was briefly struck by the impression of standing in a great cathedral, filled with quiet and light. 

The left two thirds of the shop was open, two stories tall, with a packed dirt floor. Three bay doors lined the left wall; James guessed that the nearest would lead out to the shelter and sailboat he had been admiring. A somewhat larger, and certainly bulkier, boat dominated the center of the floor, with a low scaffold wrapped around it. 

The right side of the shop was split, with a low-ceiling workspace filled with workbenches and two tiny boats, and an enclosed room on the second story. Three smaller bay doors lined the right wall. 

In the open space to the left of the door, in front of the bay door, four long poles of wood - masts? Other sail-y things? - were suspended from tall A-frames. The sole occupant of the shop was a man with ruffled black hair, wearing a canvas apron loaded down with small tools over jeans and a black and grey flannel shirt. He was bent over the largest of the poles, sanding it carefully. The shop door clicked closed, and the man straightened and pulled off his dust mask, eyeing his work for a moment. He glanced up, and James stopped breathing. 

When James drove up to the workshop at Patch Boatworks, he wasn’t sure what to expect. He certainly didn’t expect to fall for a dusty stranger’s wide, warm grin. 

——

“Heyah handsome. Are you here for business, or just elevating the decor?” Qrow winked, and Tall Dark And Handsome blinked and huffed a laugh. 

“Business. James Ironwood, I’m supposed to be talking to a Mr. Xiao Long about a management position.”

Qrow hummed as he stepped around the mast he’d been sanding. “Guess I should quit hitting on you then. I’m Qrow Branwen, I run the shop side of things here.” He dusted off his hands and offered one to Ironwood. The other man accepted it immediately, and Qrow smiled again. For someone so sharply dressed, Ironwood had no fear of a little dirt. Good. He was damn strong though, if that grip was anything to go by. “Tai’s out at the moment. The hospital’s being dicks about bills. He’ll be back as soon as he’s able.”

Ironwood’s cheek twitched, once. “Yeah. They tend to be. Nothing too serious, I hope?”

Qrow grimaced and looked away. “I’d rather not talk about it at the moment, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Ah. I apologize.”

“No, I’m not offended.” Qrow sighed and turned to lean against a bench. “It’s actually relevant to the job. Tai’s been having to take time away from the shop to deal with this. Hell, we all have, but frankly good management is easier to find, or train, than good shipwrights.”

“I imagine. Xiao Long mentioned that this shop was largely a family affair until recently. I’d guess it’s hard to transition away from that.”

Qrow relaxed a little as Ironwood seemed to accept the topic change smoothly. He chuckled a little, and met Ironwood’s eyes again. “I wouldn’t know. Every kid I take on as an apprentice or hand ends up getting dragged into the family sooner or later.”

Ironwood snorted; the crinkling at the corners of his eyes gave away his amusement. It was a good look on him. “You make it sound like the mafia. Should I be worried?”

_Oh, he’s got jokes now. Better and better._

Qrow spent a solid ten seconds trying to come up with a suitably cheesy mafia-related innuendo. Eventually he gave up. It would come to him at, like, three in the morning. He settled for smiling a little and shaking his head. “Nah, I get the impression you haven’t got enough sawdust in your system to get sucked in that way. You’ll just have to find another way in.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

——

James raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you were going to stop hitting on me.” _Please don’t stop,_ said the traitorous little voice in his head. Branwen’s amber eyes sparkled with mischief. It was making it hard to breathe. At least he’d managed to get his expression under control. 

“That’s not hitting on, that’s flirting. Possibly even innuendo. It’s an entirely different thing.” Branwen waved it away. “Though, I will cut it out if it truly makes you uncomfortable. With you, at least.”

“We’re pretty sure that Qrow only knows how to breathe while flirting. Can’t have him passing out because he had to go cold turkey.” The door opening behind James saved him from figuring out what a response to Qrow’s remark even was. A man with curly blond hair and tired blue eyes entered the shop. He offered a hand to James. “Taiyang Xiao Long. You must be James.”

“I am,” he shook Xiao Long’s hand carefully; he had no intention of revealing his prosthetics before he had to. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Xiao Long.”

Xiao Long’s eyes flicked down to the glove, and his brow creased for just a moment before he looked up again and laughed. It was a merry, well-worn sound, even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Please, call me Taiyang, or Tai. People might get the impression we take ourselves seriously here if we talk like that.” He released James’ hand. 

“And boatbuilders aren’t serious? I must have worked with the wrong people.”

Taiyang snorted. “Have you _met_ Qrow?”

“Yes. He immediately started hitting on me.” James let his amusement show a little, to take the bite out of that. He didn’t think Taiyang was the type, but the last thing he wanted was Branwen getting in trouble. 

Taiyang glanced over to where Branwen was wiping down the pole he’d been sanding with a wet rag. The harsh smell of alcohol was in the air. 

Branwen shrugged and grinned. “Can you blame me?”

Taiyang shook his head and sighed, turning back to James. “My point is made, I think.” He gave James a lopsided smile. “Let’s head over to the office, I’ll get you acquainted with the bureaucracy.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tai and James talk shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but I wanted to post before I'm destroyed watching the finale. There's some semi-plausible legal bullshit in here; it is not researched, given that I hacked it together over my lunch break.

A few hours later, Taiyang flipped the binder which apparently contained hard copies of all of the company’s contracts and sales, past and present, closed. “So, what do you think?”

The office was one of the front rooms of a cabin that was tucked into the trees behind the workshop. The cabin was a thing of beauty; no mass-produced cookie cutter house, this. James found himself wondering how long it had been there, and whether Qrow had a hand in it. 

“You’ve got a good thing here. It has all of the growing pains that I expected, transitioning from a family shop to a proper company, but the foundation of it is solid.” James frowned slightly. “I am a little confused, though. I was under the impression I was coming in for an interview.”

Taiyang smiled. This one, though warm, didn’t quite reach his eyes. None of them had. “Your background makes you, by the numbers, rather overqualified to run a tiny shop like this. In the past hour you’ve demonstrated the foresight, flexibility, and comfort with paperwork necessary to keep track of a steadily evolving system. In fact, I can tell that you have suggestions as to how we can improve it, and I look forward to hearing them. And,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “You’ve passed the most important interview with flying colors. You and Qrow get along.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Has that been an issue before?”

“It’s been the greatest issue. Qrow’s got some problems with white collar types to start with, and with the stress of expanding the shop and—“ Taiyang cut himself off, looking away. 

“Stressful things,” James murmured.

“Yeah.” Taiyang cleared his throat. “With everything, he’s had even less patience than usual. And given that he’s the heart of this place, as much as he denies it, I’m inclined to find someone he’ll tolerate, rather than have him more stressed. I don’t know what you did, but you seem to have convinced him that you’re more than the stuffed suit you look like.” 

He just shrugged. They’d barely exchanged a few words before Taiyang had interrupted; certainly not enough to for an impression, other than that Qrow had a lovely smile and a wicked sense of mischief. And that wasn’t exactly a professional assessment.

“Besides, Oz seems to think you’d be a good fit with us, and they haven’t been wrong yet.”

“Who exactly is us?” James asked. He didn’t want to talk about what Ozpin thought of him, and why. “I take it this shop is more than you and Branwen.”

Taiyang snorted. “Do yourself a favor and just call him Qrow. Otherwise Raven will give you shit for it when she’s next around.” James raised an eyebrow at that, and Taiyang smiled. A small, soft smile this time, which did reach his eyes. “Raven Branwen is Qrow’s twin, and one of my spouses. She’s also our scout. She wanders the world finding sawyers and suppliers, and occasionally clients, and sends them back to us. She’s home for a few days a month. You’d actually be working fairly closely with her, coordinating supplier lists and orders.”

James hummed. “She sounds like quite a character.”

“Yeah,” Taiyang grinned, “Qrow’s the civilized one of them, if you can believe it. The fourth of the full-on ‘staff’ is Summer Rose, Raven’s and my other spouse.” His face fell. “She did HR and outreach kind of stuff part-time, in addition to running a talk therapy practice. She’s… not able to work, at the moment.”

James nodded. “Stressful things,” he murmured again. 

“Yeah. Oz suggested you might understand that.”

“A bit.” James braced himself for the inevitable question. 

It never came. Taiyang tipped his chair back and hummed, saying, “Qrow doesn’t have a full time apprentice at the moment. His last one, Amber, just moved up the bay to Vale.”

James let out the breath he had been holding. _Does this guy seriously not care?_ He had definitely noticed something was up with James’ hand - as if the gloves weren’t clue enough. Well, he wasn’t inclined to force the issue. It was… nice, to be treated like a person, and not a charity case. Or a freak. 

“You specified full-time,” he said instead. 

“Yeah. The girls - my daughters, Yang and Ruby - spend a lot of time in the shop. For the sake of child labor laws, they’re considered filial apprentices.”

James frowned. “I didn’t think that was still a thing.” 

Taiyang shook his head. “Neither did I. But Qrow went and sweet talked the local marine trades association into helping him get an exception passed. It works a lot like partial homeschooling, except that he’s writing the curriculum, and it’s getting approved by a group of industry authorities. That’s actually one of the reasons we’re working on expanding now; enough of Yang’s classmates got interested that we’re partnering with the school district to do an after school class. If this year’s class goes well they’re talking about offering it as a standard elective, an alternative to a normal shop class.”

James raised his eyebrows. “That’s… a niche I would never have thought of. I can imagine it would be a very good thing for some students.”

“Yeah. Some of the kids who don’t do well in classroom settings respond really well to Qrow. But hey, I should give you a tour anyways, and they should be well into today’s session. We can sneak in the back.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the kids. Also, more than you ever wanted to know about spar varnish. Also, surprise angst, mentions of severe illness and physical abuse.

When James and Taiyang slipped into the shop through the machine room - a side room filled with table saws, planers, and the biggest bandsaw James had ever seen, all of it previously hidden behind the bay doors on the right hand wall of the shop - Qrow was standing over the mast he had been sanding earlier, lecturing to a group of teenagers. One stood beside him, in a long-sleeved khaki work shirt and black nitrile gloves, her mass of curling blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. Glancing aside at Taiyang, James could see the resemblance between them.

Other kids were scattered about Qrow in a rough half-circle, leaning or perched on boxes and nearby workbenches. The youngest of the group was a dark haired girl in black and red, with striking silver eyes. She kicked her feet and fidgeted where she sat on one end of a bench, but her attention was clearly riveted on Qrow. Beside her, an ice-blonde girl stood with a rigid and perfect posture that James immediately recognized; he made a mental note, but kept his alarm to himself. Next was a ginger girl who was terribly distracted by comparison, her attention flitting around the shop to occasionally come back to the lecture. She also fidgeted, bouncing slightly, and as James watched the tall, quiet boy beside her set a hand on her shoulder to calm her. The final member of the group was a blond boy who had clearly been stuck in the awkward, gangly stage of his growth for too long, if his posture was anything to go off of. 

As they drew closer to the group, James let himself be drawn in by Qrow’s warm, husky drawl. “Now, in the kind of temperatures and humidity we’re dealing with here, varnish tends to start kicking off after several minutes, be workably cured after 24 hours, and be fully cured after 48 hours. It goes a bit slower in colder temperatures, and faster in heat, but,” Qrow pointed at some bottles and cans lined up on a sawhorse in front of him, “we can thin it more or less to keep it around that range. Any ideas why we might care so much about these cure times?”

The ginger girl’s hand shot up, and Qrow nodded to her. “Nora?”

“The sooner we can get more coats on the sooner we can be done with it and do fun stuff!”

The ice-blonde girl scoffed. “Don’t be so impatient! Mr. Branwen just got finished saying that the more patient you are with it, the better finish you’ll get. I think considering drying times is important because if we’re painting on the wet edge, as we _obviously_ are,” James couldn’t see her eye roll, but he knew it well enough in another face, “then extending that ‘kicking off’ time allows us more time to get a perfectly even coat without lapping.”

“You’re right, Weiss,” Qrow raised an eyebrow, “but only technically. It’s almost always more efficient, and more skillful, to control lapping and drying lines when painting on the wet edge by adjusting the size of the area you’re working on at one time. Hubris is as much a destroyer of varnish jobs as impatience is.”

Weiss deflated a bit, looking down at her feet. The younger girl sitting next to her touched her shoulder and smiled when Weiss looked up at her. 

Qrow continued, “Nora’s answer is closer to the point. We want to finish a single coat of varnish quickly enough that our wet edge is always within that initial kicking-off time, but how long do we wait to put on the next coat? There’s absolutely no point in whacking on another coat within, say, eighteen hours, because the earlier you apply it, the more likely that the weight of the new coat will drag the older coat around, since it’s not cured. And then you have to sand down to bare wood and start all over again. But if you wait for multiple days, it’s going to need sanding anyways, and that’s slow and annoying. What we want for building layers of varnish efficiently, is what’s called hot-coating. This applies to varnish, paint, epoxy… basically any kind of cured surface coat. Between about twenty and twenty-six hours of cure time, we can apply another layer of the same varnish and the two will chemically bond together. Because of this, we don’t have to induce the mechanical bond that sanding or scuffing a fully cured surface gives us.”

The girl in black and red nodded. “And prep is what takes the most time, and so costs the project money!”

Qrow smiled down at the girl, and James heard Taiyang chuckle beside him. “That’s Ruby,” he said quietly. “She’s been utterly attached to Qrow from day one, and she’s been toddling around the shop after him pretty much since she could walk.” James looked at him in surprise, and Taiyang raised his hands to placate him. “Hey, I was worried about that too. But Qrow’s a good uncle, and he runs a safe shop. He always had an eye out for her, and for Yang later.” He indicated the blonde girl, as though it weren’t obvious. “The girls both know this stuff inside out, so Qrow often has Yang help him with demonstrations, before she goes off to tinker with systems work. He keeps offering the demonstrations to Ruby, but she insists that she’s more help asking the dumb questions that everyone is thinking but won’t ask.” Worry turned down the corner of Taiyang’s mouth. 

“She’s afraid the others will resent being taught by a younger kid,” James guessed. 

“But this way they can laugh at her all they need to, to keep their pride, and be secretly grateful to her. Got it in one.” Taiyang’s expression was an odd mix of bitter and fond. “Freshman year of high school is bad enough. I sometimes worry how much going into it a year early is messing her up.”

James winced slightly. “She must be a remarkable girl, to swing that. She’s what, thirteen?”

“Yeah. It was a lot of work for her, testing up, but she was determined not to spend another in a different school from Yang. They’re so close, and,” Taiyang sighed, “with Summer unwell, I’m afraid they’ve been left to lean on each other more often than not.”

“Hmm. Good thing they’ve got the shop, then. Between Qrow and these others, they’re not too isolated.” James frowned slightly. “Do they pick on Ruby?”

Taiyang huffed quietly. “Nah. Her big sis wouldn’t stand for that, and Rubes herself can throw a punch. But these kids are a good bunch; Yang and Ruby invited every one of them. The only one I was worried about was Weiss, but Ruby seems to have charmed her.” He shrugged. “And apparently Qrow is willing to swallow his classism for the sake of a kid. Or at least, for a friend of Ruby’s.”

“Hmm.” James turned his attention back towards the group. Yang was talking now, explaining brushing technique, and demonstrating on the big mast. Qrow was leaned against a sawhorse, watching her and occasionally offering a comment. James spent a bare moment appreciating his profile; then he turned his attention to Weiss. _Weiss Schnee. That’s an awfully convenient coincidence._ “I’m glad to see she has friends,” he murmured.

He could feel Taiyang watching him, following his gaze. “Do you know Weiss, then?” he asked.

“I know her sister. Winter has spoken of her, a few times.”

“Huh. I got the impression Weiss wasn't fond of her family.”

James grimaced, slightly, then schooled his expression. “Winter got out.” Then, quietly, “She was… concerned, about Weiss. More than that I’m not sure I can say.”

Taiyang frowned and rubbed his jaw, thinking. “Well, I certainly won’t ask you to break confidence. I’ll talk to Qrow and the girls, find out if they’ve noticed anything of note.”

The two of them loitered in the back of the shop for a time, Taiyang gossiping at him about the teenagers until he felt like he’d known them for years. The kids, under Qrow’s watchful eye and gentle correction, set about painting varnish onto the waiting pieces - _Main mast, mizzen mast, main boom, mizzen boom. What’s a mizzen?_ James mused to himself, half-listening to Taiyang’s story about Ren, Nora, and a stack of pies. The man was easy company, at least. Though he wasn’t sure how he ever got anything done… 

Finally, with the light outside fading, all of the masts and booms - _Spars, collectively the term is spars_ \- were varnished, and Qrow explained how good brushes should be stored in paint thinner to preserve them. They had been using disposable foam brushes, but they got the lecture anyways. 

The awkward boy, Jaune, groaned, “I never knew there was so much to learn about painting stuff...”

Qrow arched an eyebrow and grinned, mischief in his eyes. “Why Mr. Arc,” he said, in an arch and teasing tone, “we have not even begun to speak of paint!” He held the expression for a beat, before breaking into laughter at Jaune’s fallen demeanor. James found himself smiling. It was a warm and open laugh, not mocking. He wanted to hear more of it. “Nah, I’m messing with you. In the real world, finish work - painting, varnishing, the like - is its own trade, and rightly so. There are people in the world who can lay down a mirror with a single swipe of a varnish brush,” he sighed wistfully, “and _damn_ is it sexy to watch. But they spend thirty years doing nothing but varnishing to be able to do that. For our purposes, ‘good enough’ is in fact good enough. These basics are a lot, but they apply across most painted-on finishes.”

Jaune rubbed the back of his neck and laughed, a little shaky. “Oh, well, I guess I feel like a little less of an idiot, then. If it’s supposed to be that hard.”

“Exactly.” Qrow reached up and ruffled the boy’s hair, despite the fact that Jaune was only a few inches shorter than him. “You’re doing great, Jaune. We learn one hell of a lot more from our mistakes than we do from getting it perfect the first time. And you keep getting better with every thing that goes wrong.”

Jaune smiled shyly, and followed Ren and Nora out the door, holding it open for Weiss to follow after. 

\----

The door closed, and silence reigned in the shop for a moment. Then, Qrow and Ruby let out explosive sighs at the exact same time. Taiyang walked out of the shadows at the back of the shop. “Long day, huh?”

“Dad!” Yang and Ruby both cried out and ran to tackle him. James smiled and circled around the family, quietly as he could, towards Qrow.

“Did you get to see Mom? How is she?” Ruby demanded.

Taiyang ruffled her hair, making her pout. “She was a little better today. She was awake and cursing all doctors ever. She asked me to tell you that she loves you very much, and you have to make enough trouble to cover for her while she’s gone.”

Ruby just hugged him harder, hiding her face.

Yang shook her head. “But when can _we_ go see her, Dad? It sucks, only ever hearing this second hand.”

James made a show of studying the newly varnished masts, and very much not paying attention to the very private conversation. He wasn’t sure the girls had even noticed him yet.

“I know you want to see her. And you’re right, and you will.” Taiyang sounded worried again. “But… better still isn’t good. I don’t want you girls hurt. And it does hurt, to see someone you love… very sick, and to be unable to do anything about it.”

“Do you think we don’t know that?” Yang snapped.

Ruby added, muffled by her father’s shirt, “It’s worse when they just disappear.”

There was a choked sound, and James glanced back briefly to see that Yang had wrapped herself around Ruby, holding her tight, while Taiyang held on to both of them. Yang was whispering something fiercely into her sister’s hair. James turned away quickly, feeling even more like an intruder.

His eyes met Qrow’s. The shipwright’s eyes were a little wet with tears, but he was mostly composed. He offered James a slight smile. “Hey.” Qrow murmured. “Thanks.”

He didn’t specify what for.

James looked away. “Stressful things. I get it.”

“Yeah.” Qrow nodded towards the open bay door, and James followed him out to the shelter and the sailboat he’d been admiring hours earlier.

James stared at it. He’d only known these people for a few hours. And most of that had been talking to Taiyang. Well, and Taiyang nattering at him about anything and everything. 

“Your brother-in-law is a terrible gossip, do you know that?”

Qrow chuckled softly, and it only sounded a little forced. “Yeah, he’s the worst. Anything juicy?”

James trailed a hand over the rich, dark wood lip that ran around the cockpit of the sailboat. He wished he dared to take off his gloves and find out if it felt as smooth as it looked. Only a few hours. And yet, he was tempted to trust them. 

“Weiss Schnee is one of your students.” Qrow hummed in agreement. “I know her sister, Winter.” Qrow stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue. “I fear Miss Schnee may be in danger of abuse.”

Qrow sighed. “Yeah, I know.” James looked up at him. He had half-collapsed against the boat, graceful in the odd way of gangly people, his chin resting on his folded arms. “That’s part of why Ruby first decided she needed a friend. Happened to see some odd bruises.”

James drew a deep breath. Forced it out, slowly.

Qrow continued, “She knows she’s safe here. She knows how her sister got out - keeps in contact with her, I think. And Ruby’s made sure she knows that if she wants to leave, she won’t be alone.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. They were trying to help. But--

“But she hasn’t chosen to leave. And there isn’t enough against him to lock him up. So that’s about all we can do, until something changes.” Pause. “Or she shows up here with bruises, and I murder Jaques Schnee myself.”

James’ next breath came out as a snort. “Let me know if you need help moving a body. Or making one.”

“Heh. You’re alright, Jimmy.”

“It’s James.”

“Sure it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pyrrha is busy taking night classes LIKE A NERD. Jaune is very proud of her.
> 
> This is going a bit more serious than I intended. But sometimes happiness is being able to help people in the ways they need. And sometimes it is seeing them grow to the point where they no longer need your protection.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qrow and James chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Holy fuck I am not happy with this chapter but it's going up anyways. I may come back and edit this later.
> 
> On a related note, the google doc for this fic is now 34 pages long, the final chapter is written, but I have no fucking clue what the next chapter even is. Posting may slow down from here. We'll see.
> 
> I hope you enjoy their weird nonsense!.

Qrow and Ironwood fell into a companionable quiet after that. Qrow kept an ear cocked for Tai and the girls. His heart ached for them, but he was glad that Tai seemed able to handle things for now. And it seemed that Ironwood was an even more decent sort than he’d hoped. 

“So I take it that Tai’s told you about our class scheme?”

Ironwood hummed, cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’ll admit, I was skeptical, but I underestimated you. You’re a good teacher.”

Qrow dropped his head onto his arms and laughed, his breath stirring the dust on the deck of the boat. “I try. The kids get all of my patience, some days, but they’re worth it. It’s pretty incredible how fast they soak up new things.”

“Hmm. Especially when they can actually move and do things.” Ironwood was idly rubbing a gloved hand along the cockpit combing of the Rozinante. Qrow was quite pleased with that piece; it was a hand carved mechanical curve, and incredibly satisfying to touch. He wondered what it would take to get Ironwood to take those gloves off and appreciate his work properly. The glimmer of silver showing under the glove suggested the answer was ‘a lot.’ Ironwood was speaking again, a rumbling murmur, “I wish I’d had something like this at their age.”

“It’s not too late.” The words were out of his mouth before he’d really thought about them. Qrow never offered his shop to people who weren’t students or boatbuilders. “If you take Tai’s offer, you’ll have access to the shop.”

Ironwood chuckled. “You put too much faith in me. I know nothing about woodworking.”

“With a name like Ironwood? That’s a damn shame.”

Ironwood cleared his throat. His left hand moved to rub his right. “Never really had the opportunity.” 

“Well, you do now. There’s plenty of times I could use an extra pair of hands around here, and yours seem pretty strong.” He gave Ironwood his best saucy wink. 

Ironwood snorted. “You could say that. When did Taiyang tell you he’d offered me the job?”

Qrow shrugged. _Wishful thinking._ “You’re still here. He wouldn’t have shown you the class unless he was sure of you.”

Ironwood frowned at him. “Taiyang said a similar thing of you. I’m not sure what you’re looking for, that you seem to find it so quickly.”

Qrow raised an eyebrow, and very obviously let his gaze trail down Ironwood, and back up to his face. Ironwood rolled his eyes, and Qrow grinned. He pushed away from the boat and turned to face Ironwood properly. “In truth? You came into my shop in the sharpest suit I’ve seen outside of a funeral - with fucking _driving gloves,_ no less - and shook my hand without hesitation, despite knowing it was covered in sawdust and varnish and who knows what else. You aren’t that well dressed to impress, or to lick boots. Maybe it’s just habit. But do you want to know what I think?” He stepped closer, into Ironwood’s space.

Ironwood held his ground. His voice was low, quiet. “I did ask.”

Qrow grinned. He leaned ever so slightly closer, tilting his head a hair to make sure that his breath ghosted over Ironwood’s neck. “I think it’s armor. I think there’s something you’re afraid of. Something you don’t want us knowing.” Ironwood’s face was a stone mask, though a single tendon in his neck fluttered. This guy had a ton of control. _Gently Qrow. We like him, we want him to stay. We want him to like us. You’ve got his back against the wall, now convince him not to stab you._ He decided to take a shot in the psychological dark. “And you’re afraid that we’ll find out you’re keeping secrets.” _There._ A muscle in Ironwood’s jaw jumped. Qrow leaned back again, and raised his voice from the seductive whisper it had dropped to. Whoops. “Joke’s on you, Jimmy. We don’t care. As long as you’re not some kind of child molester - which, given our conversation just now, I doubt - secrets is secrets. Everyone’s got shit behind them. I’m not inclined to trust anyone who doesn’t seem to have secrets. What I care about is what you do, from here forward. And what you do, is apparently accept things - and people - for themselves, whatever flaws might rub off on you.” Qrow stepped out of Ironwood’s space and ran a hand over the Rozinante, displaying his palm covered in brown dust by way of illustration.

Ironwood stared at him. Then shook his head. “And how long will I have to work here before you start to make sense?”

“Depends on whether you take me up on my offer.”

Ironwood raised an eyebrow. “Which one?”

Qrow just grinned and winked. 

Qrow heard the sound of little boots behind him. He spun away from Ironwood in time to snatch up an armful of giggling niece and spin her around. “Heya kiddo.”

Ruby hung from his arm, grinning and swinging her legs. “Uncle Qrow! Yang and I are going to do homework, and Dad’s making pancakes for dinner! And I want a hug!”

“You always want a hug, you little spidermonkey.” Qrow pulled her into a proper hug, squeezing tight as he knew she liked. Ruby had once described it as like squishing a cat to calm it down. Weird image, but it worked. 

Ruby smiled up at him when he dropped her to the floor, and butted her forehead into his chest. She then popped around him and bounced up to Ironwood. “Hi! I’m Ruby Rose! Dad said you’re coming to work with us!”

Qrow swallowed a snicker as Ironwood was hit with the full force of the Rose ‘Be Happy, Damn It’ smile. He’d considered weaponizing it a time or three.

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Rose. I’m James Ironwood, you may call me James.” He offered Ruby his hand.

She took his hand. “You should call me Ruby.” She leaned in and in a conspiratorial stage-whisper told him, “Miss Rose is what Uncle Qrow calls Mom when she’s right and he doesn’t want to admit it.” She stood straight again and winked at Ironwood, then bounced off to follow her sister out of the shop.

This time Qrow couldn’t contain his laughter. Ironwood looked utterly poleaxed and charmed. He blinked at Qrow, and Qrow just grinned. “She has that effect on people.”

Ironwood blinked again. “I can see where she gets it,” he muttered.

\----

James rubbed his eyes. Between Qrow’s deeply unsettling speech - which had left him torn on whether he wanted to flee or pin the man against a wall and _show_ him what he could do - and his niece’s blinding charm literally moments later, he was getting whiplash.

The interview, as such, had been over for a while.

He could just go.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you this late.” James opened his eyes to see Taiyang had joined him. Qrow had moved away, and was tidying up the shop. “I hope you don’t have too far to drive? I never asked where you’re staying.”

James huffed a tired laugh. “Another thing I need to sort out. For now I’m staying at a hotel up the road. Some fifteen minutes? I’ll be fine.”

Taiyang hummed. “I know the one. You’re in good hands. And if you’re not up to hunting for dinner, the sandwich shop across the way is good. And I’ve got access to a private database of local rentals; I’ll get you a link.”

Qrow paused in wiping down benches with a wet rag. “If you’d like, I’ve got a guest room you can steal for a while.”

James frowned. “I haven’t even accepted the job. I wouldn’t wish to impose.” Qrow and Taiyang both twitched at that. Strange. 

Taiyang opened his mouth, but Qrow beat him. “It’s not an imposition, and the offer is not contingent on accepting the job.” He shrugged; it was a carefully casual motion, and James wondered what all was behind it. “I live alone in a cabin built for six. The least I can do is alleviate the housing stress of friends.”

James stared at him for a moment, then his eyes slid over to Taiyang. The blond was looking at Qrow; he met James’ eyes and gave him a half smile. “He’s serious.” Taiyang said. “He built that cabin back when we were all one household, before Raven started wandering and the girls grew adventurous. He generally offers one of the empty bedrooms to whoever his current apprentice is, but you wouldn’t be displacing anyone.”

James breathed in. Breathed out. “I appreciate the offer. Both the room and the job. I’d rather consider it for a time, if it’s all the same to you.”

Qrow waved a hand and went back to his work. “Offer stands as long as you need it, Jimmy.”

“It’s James.”

“Mhm.”

Taiyang shook his head, and walked James to the door. He made sure James had his number, and bade him good evening. 

James pulled out of the gravel lot, and made it as far as the first stop sign before he sighed. Checking to see there was no traffic behind him, he pulled out his phone and shot off a text message to Taiyang’s number. The phone went up on its stand, and he drove on. 

If driving away was going to feel so much like leaving, he may as well give in now. 

——

Tai saw James out the door, and came back in a minute later. Qrow was leaning forward against a bench, facing away from the door. Tai strolled over, hands in his pockets, and leaned against the bench next to him, facing the other way. 

They stood like that for a long moment, before Tai checked his phone, and chuckled, warm and amused. “He’s well away, birdbrain. You can let go.”

Qrow collapsed across the bench with a pained groan, mashing his face into the scarred wood. He screamed briefly into the benchtop, then turned his face towards his brother-in-law. “I am so fucking gay, Tai. _So fucking gay._ ” 

“And here I thought you were a bisexual disaster.”

“Oh please, that was when I was but a boy. I’m at least a bisexual cataclysm now.” The snark was reflexive. Tai didn’t hold it against him. “But not when he’s in the room! Fuuuuck.” Qrow scraped himself off the table and ran a hand through his hair, muttering, “Stupid hot Jimmy and his stupid soft hair and stupid pretty eyes and stupid shit brickhouse _body_ and _fuck_ I bet he’s strong as _fuck_ and his stupid nice laugh and his stupid perfect ass and his stupid pretty voice and considerate and kind and good and _ugh—_ “

Tai laughed again. Qrow had it bad. Tai pulled him into a one-armed hug and said, “Never let it be said I don’t get you nice things.”

Qrow pulled away enough to look at Tai with budding horror. “You didn’t offer this guy the job just because he’s a mountain of eye candy, did you?” Tai just grinned. _“Taiyang Xiao Long. Tell me you did not do that.”_

Tai finally shook his head. “Nah, I wouldn’t do that to him. Or you, for that matter. Merit only. The fact that he’s a damn snack is an unexpected bonus. He’s pretty heinously overqualified, to be honest. Half of why I wanted him in for an interview, instead of offering him the job over the phone, was to make sure he wasn’t like, ex-mafia or something, figure out why he was down here with us at the bottom of the barrel.”

“And?”

“And I’ve got about the same inkling as I think you do. Prosthetic hand - and a significant portion of the arm, probably. And he’s not comfortable with it. I suspect there’s more to it than that, but hey, not my business.”

Qrow let out a long breath. “Yeah, that’s about what I got.” He paused. “Did he mention Weiss to you?”

“Yeah. Seems he knows her sister.”

“Do you know how?” Qrow asked, fiddling with the rag.

“I did some digging, when Oz first mentioned him.” Tai smiled. That had been an interesting bit of research, even without asking Raven or Clover. “It seems he was her CO.” He watched Qrow for a moment. “He’s good people, Qrow. You’re allowed to like him, and not just because of his stupid perfect ass.”

The shipwright sighed. “Don’t remind me. Why did I offer to let the guy live with me?”

Tai grinned. “It could be worse. At least he doesn’t have a beard. Or glasses.”

He watched Qrow’s eyes go wide as he imagined it. “ _Fuck._ ” Qrow buried his face in his hands. “ _I’m so fucked._ ”

Tai hummed cheerfully. “Nope! You’re tragically unfucked, that’s what makes it hurt!” He spun Qrow away from the bench and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Come on,” he said, leading Qrow out of the shop, “You can mope into the couch while I make pancakes. Pancakes fix everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yang, from across the shop: I can't tell if Uncle Qrow is trying to seduce him or threaten him.  
> Tai: Bold of you to assume there's a difference.  
> Yang (scandalized): _DAD!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Glynda do lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so I clean forgot Team CVFY was a thing and??? they're so good???
> 
> This chapter accomplished precisely none of what I was going for, but that's because Glynda decided to write herself for 2k words. Which I do not object to.
> 
> TW for minor malicious misgendering of an NB person, immediately addressed. Also, mention of abuse.

Tai _somehow, conveniently_ failed to actually tell Qrow about Ironwood’s message until early the next morning. Qrow was nursing his second coffee of the morning, checking on yesterday’s varnish job - he’d need to figure out how to handle Weiss’ reaction, she wouldn’t take the fact that her section went wonky well - when Tai messaged him. 

_Xiao Schlong: BTW, your new roommate got back to me. Will Wednesday work for moving him in?  
Xiao Schlong: Don’t worry, I’ll be there to help. And get him spun up on work stuff. I won’t abandon you to James’ tender mercies.  
Xiao Schlong: Also I’m sending you his number. He’s got yours. _

Qrow stared at the messages, and drained his coffee. It was far, far too early for Tai’s teasing. Especially when he was going to have to be _civilized_ about it.

——

James spent Tuesday morning carefully not panicking, and arranging for his belongings to be delivered. _One benefit of being military,_ he mused as he drove back from Vale. _I don’t have to deal with movers myself._ When he had decided he wanted to settle in the greater Vale area, he’d filed the proper paperwork, and the contents of his Atlas apartment had been neatly boxed up in a storage unit in Vale by the time he got there. That wasn’t officially an option available to him anymore, but his policy of being friendly to NCOs had paid off again, and the Vale base quartermaster was willing to do him a favor.

Which was just as well, given his back was hurting just thinking about everything in that storage unit. At least his books were still back in Atlas. 

He pulled into the parking lot at Beacon, and took a moment to message Taiyang and Qrow. 

_James: I’ve arranged for Navy movers to deliver my things between 10 and 12 tomorrow, if that serves._  
_Taiyang Xiao Long: No heavy lifting required, eh? Awesome._  
_Qrow Branwen: 👍_

That dealt with, he climbed out of his car, checked his gloves, and set off to meet his next duty.

\----

Beacon Academy served as the main high school for the Emerald Forest area. Yang, Ruby, Weiss, and the other kids were all here somewhere, not that James expected to run into them. He was here to see an old friend, who just so happened to be the principal of Beacon. 

When James walked into the front office, it was a scene of moderate chaos. A brown-haired girl, dressed with a surprising degree of sophistication in brown and black, stared down an angry boy who wore gym clothes. 

The girl spoke with a cold scorn, but fury was evident in her eyes. “While I acknowledge your pain, Mercury, you don’t get a free pass to _hurt people_ just because your dad’s a jackass. If you’re so hellbent on becoming like him, you’d best get used to the idea that some of us will always stand in your way.”

“ _You don’t fucking know me,_ ” the boy hissed, “You stuck up bitch--”

“ _ENOUGH._ ” James had to resist snapping to attention when the blonde woman standing between the two kids spoke, her voice ringing with command. He let a ghost of a smile play across his face, for just a moment. All these years between him and basic training, and he was still hardwired to heed her voice. It was nice to know something hadn’t changed.

Though he doubted these kids saw it that way, as they shrank under the full force of Glynda Goodwitch’s drill instructor glare.

“Miss Adel,” Glynda said, in a somewhat quieter, but still clipped and precise tone, “Your zeal for protecting your friends is admirable. However, I will remind you - again - that it is a priority of this academy to prevent incidents like this from happening in the first place. The action which we require, should a situation being escalating towards violence, is the intervention of a teacher, or, _in minor cases,_ of a student who has taken the offered course on de-escalation and conflict management. Since you seem incapable of permitting those with the proper training to do their jobs, I shall speak to your advisor about adding that course to your schedule for next semester.” The Adel girl pressed her lips into a thin line, but met Glynda’s stern gaze steadily. “Perhaps once unholding this academy’s disciplinary practices is your duty, you will take them somewhat more seriously, and with a measure more civility. Additionally, you will serve lunchtime detention on Wednesday and Thursday. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Principal Goodwitch.”

“You may go.” Glynda’s voice softened a little. “If Miss Scarlatina is still upset, please do remind her that there is no shame in asking to see a counselor.”

“Yes ma’am.” Miss Adel nodded, turned without sparing the boy she had fought with a glance, and strode out of the office. She glanced curiously at James as he stood aside for her, then she was gone.

Glynda nodded to him. “I will be with you in a moment, James.” There was a note of apology in her voice, which James waved off.

“Of course.”

Glynda motioned the surly boy into her private office, and shut the door tightly behind them. James shared a glance with the front desk secretary, a brown-haired young man. The badge on his lanyard identified him as Toma Adel. James winced.

Adel huffed a quiet laugh, even as voices rose and fell behind the closed door. “Yeah. That gets awkward sometimes. Coco’s a hellion, but her heart’s in the right place.”

James hummed. “It certainly looks like it. I’m here to steal Glynda away for a late lunch, do I need to sign in?”

“Oh, you probably should, for form’s sake.” He nudged a clipboard perched on the edge of the desk. “I take it you’re this Ironwood who Goodwitch thinks so highly of?”

James paused in his writing, looking up from the clipboard. “She talks about me?”

“Yeah, occasionally. It seems you’re full of inspirational speeches and touching life advice.” Adel grinned at whatever it was he saw in James’ face. “No pressure.”

James was saved from wondering what the hell kind of an image his old mentor and friend had constructed for him - and who else she had spoken of him to - by the door to Glynda’s office opening.

The surly boy exited, and slumped into one of the chairs lining the wall next to Glynda’s office. It was an excellent slump, all told. Very expressive. James’ back twinged at the thought of what trying something like that would do to him now.

Glynda followed the boy out of the office. She addressed Adel. “Toma, Mr. Black will remain here until the vice principal returns. I have informed Ms. Peach of what action she should take with him.” She turned to the boy. “Thank you for hearing me out, Mercury. I know this feels like the same mess you keep ending up in, but that you were willing to talk today marks a wonderful bit of progress.” The boy huffed and refused to look at her. Glynda just smiled, slightly, and turned away. She approached James. “Shall we?”

“After you.” James opened the door and waved her through with a bow. She snorted, but accepted the gesture.

\----

Glynda directed James to drive to a cidery, which turned out to have a charming taproom-kitchen-community space attached. Over bowls of a thick, rich squash soup with crusty, fresh baked bread, James filled Glynda in on the significant points of his life since they had last spoken. The early part of the account was sparse; it was the period just after the accident that had cost him half of his body. But Glynda accepted his terseness graciously, while he could see her filling in some of the details in her head - especially around the mess that was his discharge orders. Her calm silence was oddly grounding, even as he could swear his words were echoing around the empty taproom. Between her calm, the good food, and the excellent local coffee that the mercifully scarce waiter brought around after she whisked their dishes away, James managed to relax bit by bit. Finally he told her about the frankly strange events of his ’interview’ at Patch Boatworks the day before.

He rubbed a gloved hand across his face. “I just… I feel like it’s too easy. Ozpin sent me to these people. You know what they’re like. There’s some catch, some trap - fine, whatever that’s nothing new. But I can’t find it.” He sighed. “I’m so tired of being scared, Glyn.”

Glynda made a soft, contemplative noise, sipping her coffee. “Has it occured to you that you may not be the one Oz is messing with, this time?” James frowned at her. “They don’t tend to clue in their tools, James. And from what you’ve said, they’ve given Xiao Long and Qrow more information on you than they gave you on them.”

“So he’s using me,” James growled, “inflicting me on--”

“I rather doubt that. Do remember, that for all their faults, they do care about us.”

James frowned for a moment longer, then released an explosive sigh. “Yeah. They do. Sorry.”

“Much as my position prevents me from admitting it to her face, Coco was right, back in the office. One’s own pain does not give one the right to hurt others.” Glynda skewered James with a piercing stare, until he flushed with shame and fiddled with his mug. She sipped her coffee again.

“As to your other concern - you’re dealing with tradesmen, James, not corporate cutthroats.” Glynda had slipped into her favorite lecturing tone; James decided not to be annoyed at it. He had asked for this, when he invited her to lunch. “There is an assumption that any new employee is an investment. Consider this: Qrow, when he needs long-term help, hires apprentices. He doesn’t hire other boat builders, he doesn’t hire a finisher or a carpenter, and he certainly doesn’t hire a shop hand, unless it’s for a short, specific job. He hires apprentices, with the expectation that he will be teaching them to do almost every aspect of the job, for years. And he expects that just when he’s got them trained up, they will leave. Because that’s what an apprenticeship is for.

“Now, your situation is different, because they’re looking for someone who already understands management. But James - you were an officer for how long? Management was your life. I dare say you know it better than Xiao Long does. Oh, there will be differences, both in paperwork and in people. But you know how to learn those differences. You’d have to. 

She drummed her fingers on the table. “No, I’m inclined to agree with Xiao Long’s assessment. Weird as that is to say. The issue of compatible personalities is the more pressing one.”

James shook his head. “But I don’t know where they’re seeing that either. I’ve spoken to Branwen all of twice, and I’m not convinced I wasn’t talking to three different people!”

Glynda gave him an impatient look. “Qrow was not actually the one I was referring to. I meant that you and Xiao Long are going to get along famously if you can relax a little.” Her expression grew thoughtful. “But, since you bring it up… which three people?”

“An incorrigible flirt, a protective uncle, and -“ James pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. Either he was trying to threaten me, or…” he trailed off, sipping his coffee. 

“Ah, he was pulling his femme fatale nonsense.”

James choked on hot coffee. “ _His what?_ ” He sputtered. 

She shrugged impassively. “That’s what it is. He’s led an interesting life. This leads him to use somewhat unorthodox methods, when he feels the need to get under someone’s skin, to see what they’re made of.” She smiled. It was her sharp-edged smile, the one James imagined her students never got to see. “Or to prove that he can.”

James frowned. “So he considers me a threat?”

“Hardly.” Glynda waved a hand. “Most people just get the snarky, slightly surly mask, you know. Especially strangers. If he’s shown you this much, he must find you quite interesting. Though I imagine that he’s about as in the dark on _why_ as you are.”

James frowned. “How do you mean?”

“Well, I can say this much. The Qrow Branwen who I used to go clubbing with—“

“ _What._ ”

Glynda ignored him. “—wouldn’t know his own feelings if they lit his hair on fire. Introspection was always a foreign concept to him.” She paused. “Though I grant that may well have changed in the last few years.”

“What’s so special about the last few years?”

Glynda waved a hand. “I don’t know any of the details - Qrow and I haven’t been close in a while, and with his nieces in my school, there is a certain appropriate distance to be maintained.”

James snorted into his coffee. “Given your apparent history, I would think so.”

“Quite. Regardless, his nieces think much of him, and it doesn’t take much to get them talking about him. Especially Ruby.” Glynda smiled at that, the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Apparently ‘he’s been doing a lot better.’ And certainly, when I’ve spoken with him in passing, or regarding the elective class which he is teaching, he seems to be more… hmm… self-contained, shall we say.”

James hummed, thinking back to the class he’d watched Qrow teach. Self-contained was a good word for him. He’d carried himself with… not confidence, though that was there - his ‘femme fatale act’ had been oozing with it, certainly - but an assurance, a comfort in himself and his craft, that gave him an easy and approachable authority that James could quickly grow to envy.

“James.”

He blinked, and realized Glynda had been speaking and he had zoned out. “Ah-- I apologize.”

Glynda gave him a knowing look, though about what he couldn’t guess. She sipped her coffee. “Have you decided whether you’re going to take the job?”

James rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “I, ah, already accepted.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

James felt his ears burning. “I know that’s not like me,” he muttered. “I just-- Everything about yesterday was so weird but…” He trailed off, staring into his mug. “It felt like something I’d forgotten. I wanted to trust them, Glynda. Even after the bullshit Qrow pulled… that just made me want to trust him _more,_ like I wanted to see what he would do next. I--” His hands tightened around the mug. Glynda reached across the table, touched the edge of his sleeve. As good as a hug, from her. He sighed.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t want it to stop.”  
\----

James delivered Glynda back to the school, then returned to his hotel. He carefully laid across the bed, wishing he dared to flop dramatically across it. 

They hadn’t reached much in the way of conclusions, but James still felt steadier for the conversations. Glynda had a shrewd sense for people, and she was incredibly difficult to lie to. If the impressions of Taiyang and Qrow that he got from her were confusing, at least he knew they were true and confusing. And he felt steadier, for being reminded that he in fact had someone on his side in this strange little town.

Admitting to why he’d taken the job so quickly helped too. Even if he still didn’t understand it.

_Heh. Maybe Qrow and I have something in common._

Now why was that appealing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are love.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James moves in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck it, there's another section but it doesn't want to be written and I want to post. Sooo here y'all go, I hope you like description. A lot of this is setting the scene for the rest of the fic.
> 
> No particular trigger warnings, unless you're sensitive to discussion of caffeine overdose.

On Wednesday morning, Qrow texted Ironwood when he was up and vaguely decent. If he’d read the man right, Jimmy was so wrapped up in anxiety that he would just sit in his hotel until the movers showed up, rather than come find out where he was going to be living. Unless Qrow gave him a push, that is. And really, if he was wrong and living with the guy would be unbearable, he’d rather know before they unpacked his stuff.

CawCawMF: come over when you’re ready  
CawCawMF: we gotta choose you a room  
CawCawMF: and give you the grand tour  
CawCawMF: there’s coffee~  
TD&H: Hmm. I didn’t think you’d resort to bribery already.  
CawCawMF: hey, gotta butter you up sometime ;)  
TD&H: It’s going to take more than coffee to win me over.  
TD&H: But it’s a good start.  
TD&H: I’ll be there in 30 minutes.

Qrow hummed to himself as he set about throwing open the doors and windows of the first floor bedroom. It hadn’t been used since Tai and Summer moved out for good, and though Qrow had kept it clean, it smelled a little stale. Airing it out should help prejudice Ironwood towards it, instead of the smaller room upstairs. Of course, if Jimmy insisted, he could have the upstairs room, with no skin off Qrow’s nose, but he’d seen the stiff way Ironwood had carried himself, near the end of the day. He didn’t know if Ironwood had difficulties with stairs, but if he had a ground floor room up for grabs anyways, it may as well go to someone who might appreciate it. 

Besides, it was the only room with an en-suite bathroom. 

Qrow took a final turn around the house, looking for anything too embarrassing. Be honest, you’re fidgeting. But it’s normal to be anxious about a new roommate you know next to nothing about, right? That wasn’t strictly true. Tai had been surprisingly thorough in his background check. Qrow could have just read the file Tai left in the office. But since meeting Ironwood, something had stopped him. Something had whispered in him to take Ironwood on his own terms. 

Maybe it was the quiet steel he’d seen in the man, when he’d cornered him in the shop. That kind of control didn’t come easily; it could be born out of an absurd level of discipline, or trauma. He might be more inclined to relax if Qrow gave him some control of his environment and the dynamic between them. 

Maybe it was the fear that Qrow had guessed at. Ironwood was keeping secrets, and afraid of - well, something around that. That twitch wouldn’t necessarily mean Qrow was right, just that he’d hit a sore spot. Qrow didn’t think the secret in question was his artificial limbs, though he guessed Ironwood was also nervous about those. He’d hid the arm, yes, but with clothing. If he’d meant to pretend they didn’t exist, Qrow would have expected him to have a silicone ‘skin’ sleeve, for the arm at least. No, the secret Ironwood was so tense over was something else. And, oddly enough, he meant what he’d said to Ironwood. He didn’t really care what it was. Ironwood was easy to get along with, cared for the physical and emotional safety of those around him, and had enough steel in him to satisfy even Raven. For now, that was enough. 

Maybe it was that Qrow could very easily become completely obsessed with the guy. 

He returned to the kitchen and put on a fresh pot of coffee. After a moment’s consideration, he opened the spice cabinet. 

That cabinet was his pride and joy. He’d made all of the cabinets in the kitchen, framing them out of red alder and sealing them with wax, care, and little else, during the first autumn after they built the cabin. But the spice cabinet was a special exercise in hubris, and he still wasn’t quite sure how it had turned out so well. It had both a pressure catch and folding doors, and a series of levers tilted the main rack outward when the doors were opened. It was needlessly complex, and utterly delightful.

Qrow selected a few whole spices from the large jars below the main rack, then closed the cabinet. He dropped the spices into the coffee pot, which was just starting to drip. He checked the clock: 15 minutes to go.

\----

James stood before the cabin door and drew a deep breath. He held it for a count of seven, then let it out, slowly. His left shoulder relaxed, letting go of the tension he’d built up during the course of the morning. After a moment, his right shoulder dropped as well, as the prosthetic caught on. The dely was small enough on intentional actions that James didn’t really notice it any more, but its reactions to ‘matters of equilibrium,’ as Dr. Polendina had put it, were still slow. 

That wasn’t relevant now. James drew another breath, held it, breathed out. There was still a core of tension in his back, but it was better than he’d been on Monday. Talking to Glynda had helped. Getting some perspective on his new employers (and housemate), and having a tangible reminder that he was not alone in this strange town, had steadied him. He’d built his career in no small part by knowing what kind of people he was working with, and how to get them to give more to the work than they knew they had. Being dumped into a tiny town and a new kind of job with people he had no time or resources to research had set him badly on edge. With the benefit of Glynda’s perspective, and a steadier heart, he could have more confidence that this wouldn’t be as disastrous as some of Oz’s schemes.

There was still a twinge of guilt in his gut, at the thought of the eccentric. He’d been aware of Oz’s proper gender for almost as long as he’d known them. There was no excuse for misgendering them. He’d done it solely to hurt.

It was cruel.

James drew another deep breath. “Bad time to spiral, James,” he muttered. “Fix it, be better, move on.” He knocked on the door.

After a few moments Qrow opened the door. In the shop his hair had been loose and unstyled, full of soft curls and dust. Now it was styled up and back in spikes that swept away from his face and came together into a crest at the back of his head; it suited him unfairly well. The flannel shirt had been ditched for a faded band tee and a hoodie.

James had spent longer than he would ever admit deciding what to wear for this. The part of him that had been dwelling on the feeling of Qrow’s breath on his neck had advocated strongly for the soft red henley which he knew looked good on him, but his caution had won out. Branwen would see the metal at his collar and shoulder eventually. It was inevitable, living together. But he could choose to put it off for another day. So, he wore a turtleneck in a deep, intense blue-green, with dressed-down grey slacks. He quietly hoped it would be casual enough for Qrow.

From the way his eyes lingered on James, it certainly wasn’t bad.

“Morning, Jimmy.”

“Good morning, Qrow.” James wiggled the paper box he held. “I come bearing bribes.”

Qrow raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You stopped at Alistair’s? Well, I suppose now I have to let you in.” He winked and held the door while James stepped inside.

James had admired the cabin on Monday; he found he liked it even more in the dappled morning sunlight that fell through the east-facing casement windows of the living room and reflected off of warm wood floors. The front door opened into a foyer, of sorts. Something was odd about it, though James couldn’t put his finger on what it was. To the left was a set of folding doors that opened into the office where he had spoken with Taiyang. To the right, through the glass windows of a similar set of doors, he could see trees and animals painted on a wall. Some kind of nursery, perhaps. A staircase led up to a generous landing; to the left and right of the landing a hallway lined with doors stretched out of sight. Straight ahead, a set of double doors was propped open, through which Qrow led James into the living room. 

A pair of comfortably stuffed blue couches and a matching chair were arranged together, facing the large fireplace which dominated the right wall. Next to it, another set of those folding doors stood partially open, showing another hallway. On the wall of windows as a glass door leading onto a deck. The left side of the room opened into the kitchen, where a continuation of the east-facing wall of windows threw sunlight onto a large dining table. James set the box of pastries down on the table, and leaned his leather briefbag against a table leg. Qrow flipped open the box and whistled.

“Either you have fantastic luck, or you’ve got a friend at Alistair’s.” He grinned at James’ questioning look and pulled a blackberry tart out of the box. “My favorites,” he explained. “And the cheesecake ones are Tai’s greatest vice.”

Ah. Is that what the baker added to the box when I mentioned where I was moving in. A friend indeed.

Qrow pulled plates out of a cabinet. “Coffee? There’s a fresh pot of spiced, and a still-warm pot of regular.” 

“What is it spiced with?”

“Cardamom, cinnamon, clove, and orange peel. My own totally original definitely-not-a-thing-across-like-half-the-world recipe.” The corners of Qrow’s eyes crinkled as he smirked around his pastry.

“I’ll have to believe you, given I’ve never heard of such a thing. It sounds delicious.” It really did, and there was mischief dancing in Qrow’s eyes. Something quiet in the back of James’ head whispered that he shouldn’t go down so easily, he should resist the man’s charm - after all, he knew now that it was likely just a mask.

But it was a lovely mask, and it made the tightness in James’ back ease just a little more.

Qrow filled a mug from the pot in the (very good, double hot plate) machine and looked over his shoulder at James. “How do you generally take it?”

James blinked, squashing a half-dozen responses in rapid succession before coming up with the one which actually applied to coffee. “Ah - sugar, splash of cream.” 

Qrow smirked for a bare moment, his eyes still on James, then he turned back to the coffee and its paraphernalia, muttering to himself. James caught the bare edge of something that sounded like “-- mind -- gutter -- out --” and smiled to himself. This could be fun.

For a little while. Until he finds out--

Qrow snagged the plates from the counter as he came to the table. He offered James the mug. “Cheers. We’ve got some time to kill; let’s chat.” Qrow jerked his head towards the living room as he piled two more blackberry pastries on one plate, and a blackberry, a cheesecake, and an almond pastry on the other. He held out the second plate to James. “Trust me, they’re worth trying every variety. Copper Alistair is a genius of a baker.”

James accepted the plate and followed Qrow into the living room. He took a seat on the couch and sipped his coffee. The steam which rose off of it held a warm, complex scent which blended into the taste; James breathed deeply and took another mouthful. He let it roll on his tongue for a moment, savoring the flavor, before he swallowed. “That is good.”

“Yeah. Almost as good as the real thing. It started in college,” Qrow explained, folding himself sideways over an armchair and reclaiming a mug that had been left on the floor. “Our dorms banned coffee makers after one of my year-mates managed to explode one.” James raised an eyebrow, and Qrow chuckled. “Never did get an answer on how he managed that. Anyways, college students and caffeine withdrawal get along terribly, so we had to find a workaround. It was one of the professors who finally pointed out that the new rules said nothing about hot plates, and gave us a Turkish coffee recipe. There’s fancy coffee pots you can get for that, but a saucepan works just as well. So we all got thoroughly addicted to gritty spiced super-espresso. Then finals week hit.”

James winced. “How many people died?”

“Based on the chalk outlines around campus, at least 20. But that was unrelated, as far as we could tell.” Qrow waved a hand. “Nah, our issue is that we ramped up our coffee intake. You know, as you do. But we kind of forgot that we were drinking super-espresso. You down a full mug of that and things get… weird. Tai chugged a whole thermos once, to write a term paper he’d forgotten about. We found him three days later, on the roof of the dining hall. He claimed he could smell the stars from up there.” James smiled into his coffee. Qrow definitely didn’t take very careful notice. “He survived, naturally, because he’s disgustingly durable. We might have gotten him dinged up a bit on the way down, but that was hardly our fault. And that was one hell of a term paper he turned in.”

Qrow shrugged - an impressive feat, given how he was folded across the chair - and took a gulp of coffee. “Anyways, after the hue and cry from that stunt died down, the administration decided that exploding coffee makers was the lesser of the two evils. We found that spicing drip coffee the same way we’d done the Turkish helped with weaning ourselves off of it. Plus, it’s fucking delicious.”

“It is.” James took another sip. For the most part, coffee was just fuel to him. He hardly bothered to pay attention to the taste anymore. But with the spices brewed into it, flavor unfolded across his tongue and warmed him in a way which had nothing to do with heat. It was the consideration, given to such a mundane thing. The assumption that even a thing drunk for the utility of it could be special.

He could feel the implications looming behind that thought. Rather than face them, James cleared his throat. “Taiyang said that you built this place.”

\---- 

Qrow snorted. Of course Tai would say that. There was a reason he was the front man for the business; he had more patience for lying than Qrow did. “Sure.” He drained the last of his coffee and set the cup on the hardwood floor beside him. “For a certain value of ‘I’. And ‘built’. And ‘this place’. A… well. An acquaintance in the timber framing business paid off a favor by helping us develop the plans for the original cabin and some of the expansions.” He swept an arm about to indicate the room they were in. His gesture took in the soft matte lime-based paint on the walls, glowing softly in the morning light between the great polished timbers of the frame of the house. The timbers themselves seemed to melt into the bright wood floor, which was itself freshly waxed and polished, and the varnished frames of the casement windows. Qrow let himself bask in the warm light of all that happy, oiled and polished wood for a moment, breathing in the lingering scent of orange oil it wrapped him in. He rolled sideways off the armchair and onto his feet. “C’mon. I promised you a tour anyways.” He jerked his head at Ironwood, who rose and followed him. “The living room, kitchen, two of the bedrooms above, and their associated bathrooms were the original cabin. The main staircase out in the entryway was originally on the exterior; that’s why the landing up on the second floor there is so generous.”

“It used to be the upper porch?” Ironwood asked, a note of surprise in his voice.

“Yeah. I had to rebuild it anyways, when we made that expansion, so I could have moved it back, but… I kind of like having the memory of what this place was wrapped up in the structure which is.” Grown strength, his thoughts whisper. The curve that is grown in the tree by a lifetime of sun and wind and stone is stronger by far than the curve which is bent or sawn. Or so I thought. Ironwood didn’t need to hear his melancholy. “Anyway. The kitchen’s been altered a few times, but we knew we’d be expanding from the beginning, so we kinda made it the heart of the thing. Raven helped me work out the order and scale of the expansions. She’s always had a better sense for planning for the future. The issue was that, between all of us scraping up what work we could and being unable to effectively work on the cabin in winter - or late fall and early spring, ‘cause literally all of us have seasonal depression - the house would have to be built in smaller stages. Things we could frame in a weekend and work on as we were able.

“So, we called in some favors and spent some money to get the original cabin and the shop - minus the mill and dust rooms - framed out, and the cabin usable, then broke the rest into chunks.” They stopped to ditch their plates in the spacious kitchen, which gleamed with white and blue tile and wax-finished red alder cabinets. It didn’t hurt that Qrow had hit them all with his favorite orange oil polish yesterday, the same as he’d used on the living room furniture. Bright-finished wood hides a multitude of sins.

\----

They swung out to the back deck, which looked southeast over the bay. Twenty feet away, the ground dropped away into a steep slope, breaking into a cliff at a few points. James knew from Taiyang’s tour that a path wound down the slope, and the road wrapped around, to find a large shelter, a grey gravel beach, and a public dock. From this vantage, however, the trees blocked all but a distant silver glimmer of water. It was like a privacy screen against the world, wrought of whispering leaves. 

It seemed that Qrow agreed with that assessment. The left end of the porch was dominated by a large hot tub which hummed softly under a cover. Qrow caught him eyeing the tub and grinned. “You’re welcome to use the hot tub, if it’ll help. I keep it in service pretty much year-round.” 

James hummed, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Seems like a bit of a luxury for one person, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Qrow snorted. “That thing is a business expense. There are days on this job when I would be in the hospital if not for being able to boil my bones at will.” He grimaced. “Especially during lofting.”

James cocked his head. “Lofting?”

“Drawing up the plan and patterns of a boat at full size, on a flat and painted plywood floor. While a lot of modern designers will just sell you a stack of Mylar patterns, I prefer to loft out every boat I build. Especially if it’s a design I’ve never built.”

“I imagine that helps with understanding how it goes together?”

“And what shapes are where, and why, yeah. It’s also often where developing problems first show up, and so can be most easily corrected if caught. Lofting is an utterly invaluable tool. It is also,” Qrow’s voice took on a sardonic lilt, “hell on your body. We’re talking eight hour days of squats and kneeling, while making finicky little adjustments to lines, and resolving three different two-dimensional views of a very complex three-dimensional surface so that they agree to within a thirty-second of an inch. Largely in your head.” Qrow shook his head. “Business expense.”

James just smiled.

They continued the tour, with Qrow seemingly happy to lecture endlessly about the house and its furnishings. It turned out that Qrow had made quite a bit of the furniture, as well as leading the construction and finishing of the house. James didn’t mind the lecture, really. As he’d noticed while observing the class on Monday, Qrow had an affinity for teaching. Listening to Qrow talk about the house, James found himself relaxing further. It was hard to view the place as foreign and hostile, knowing the work and tears and laughter that when into building it.

Qrow talked with his hands, when he got into it. They were good hands. He had wide palms and long fingers, with a delicate and angular form which had struck him at first as odd in a craftsman; but now, between the elegant quality of his work and the calluses and cuts which crossed them, they seemed to fit Qrow perfectly. He was not made for this life, but is perhaps better for it. James felt that you could learn a lot about a person, watching their hands.

He tried not to think about what his hands said about him.

They were in the office when Taiyang joined them. Qrow was pacing across the room, complaining about use of mahogany in furniture. James had his arms crossed on the back of the (hand-carved, custom-made, by Qrow of course) desk chair, subtly rubbing the curve on the top of the chair-back with his left hand. It was the same odd roundover as he’d been fascinated with on the boat the other day.

Qrow hadn’t commented, when he pulled off one glove and not the other. Taiyang glanced at the ungloved hand, and smiled. And that was it.

After some discussion, James chose the ground floor bedroom. It was clearly meant to be a master bedroom, given its size and the furniture, but it just as clearly had not been used in some time. James still felt like he was imposing, but he squashed that feeling under the knowledge that he would appreciate a private bathroom and no stairs.

The movers showed up, and they picked through boxes for a while. Then Qrow left to prepare the shop for that afternoon’s class, and James and Taiyang got to settling him into the paperwork that made the shop run.

As they were wrapping up for the day, James stretched until his back popped. Loudly.

Taiyang winced. “Don’t break anything, over there.”

James huffed, amused. “I’m fine. It just does that sometimes. You know, this morning I was feeling bad about taking you and Qrow away from your work for so long.” He popped his neck. “I don’t feel so bad about that now.”

Taiyang laughed. “Yeah, no, don’t worry about that. As long as the work gets done, schedules around here are pretty flexible. It’s kinda the nature of the boatbuilding thing; if Qrow’s got a finicky finish job drying, he kicks everyone, including himself, out of the shop so there’s no dust being kicked up. On the other hand, if he’s planking a boat, he’ll pull in extra hands, and they just keep working until the job - or a stable section of it - is done, even if that means going over eight hours. That one hasn’t happened in years, though. Qrow’ll pull some hours this weekend or some morning, I’ll fill in where I can - but that’s become normal, with Raven away and Summer in the hospital.” 

James hummed in response. Taiyang seemed to be doing better today, but his smile still fell after mentioning Summer. Best not to ask. Instead, James asked, “Do you know when Raven is due back? It sounds like she’s been out of a while.”

Taiyang perked up again. “Yeah, she should be back some time early next week. She’s planning on stopping by a logging operation in BC on her way home, so she may be a little delayed, but she’ll be here by Wednesday at the latest.”

“A logging-?” James frowned. “Is she going to order wood directly from the loggers?”

“There’s a little more to it, but basically. Through Raven, we’ve got one of the best contact networks in the country. We guard it like it’s gold, of course,” Taiyang grinned, mischief drawing creases around his eyes, “But we’re happy to place orders for our fellow boat shops.”

James raised an eyebrow. “For a price?”

“For a price. Quite a reasonable one, too, unless they want us to pick specific wood for them, in which case they pay a commission plus Raven’s time. In this case, there’s a guy up in the mountains who’s building a big fifty foot viking longship; he’s asked us to find him some green fir to his specifications. In the sizes he wants, what Raven will do is pick the standing trees she wants felled for him, and then she’ll get the loggers to cut it down in such a way that it doesn’t fall to the ground, but can be gently set down.”

James nodded. “I take it that the fall can damage the wood?”

“Yeah, or so Qrow tells us. He calls it thunder shakes - the wood shears apart in little lines, deep in the grain, like perforations in paper. So Raven will pick trees for that and oversee their felling, then she’s going to pick a couple of already felled trees for them to mill up into standard planking stock for us - mostly just checking for obvious damage and fungus. Then, after all of that, she comes home.”

“And I finally get to meet her.” James smiled. “I look forward to it.”

\----

Later, after Qrow’s class disbanded and Taiyang took Yang and Ruby home, Qrow knocked at the open doorway of Ironwood’s suite. Ironwood was straightening out and hanging up his suits from where they lay draped across the bed: one blue, one black, one tux, and one dress uniform covered in ribbons. Ironwood paused in zipping a garment bag closed over the uniform. He cocked an eyebrow at Qrow. “What’s up?”

“How’s pizza sound for dinner? I don’t particularly want to cook, and I imagine you don’t either.” Qrow shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorjamb.

“Hmm, no, it’s not something I ever particularly _want_ to do.” Ironwood finished closing the bag, and hung it in the closet. He turned to face Qrow, rubbing his still-gloved right hand with his bare left. “Will you let me pay?”

“Aw, come on. I can’t let you pay on the first date,” Qrow teased. Ironwood gave him a flat look for his trouble. “You’re going to be stubborn about this, aren’t you.”

Ironwood sighed. It didn’t sound particularly put-upon, just tired. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. “It’s been a long day, and you’ve given me your master bedroom, indefinitely, without expectation of rent. If you insist, I won’t press the issue, but I would appreciate it if you would grant me this.”

And under that, Qrow heard, _I don’t have control of anything, let me have control of this._ Qrow put a comforting smile on his face, and pushed off the door frame to stand before Ironwood. “Alright, Jimmy. We were going to have to discuss meal plans eventually - and most of it should wait til tomorrow at least - but how about this. I like to cook, when I’ve got the energy; but I’ve only got the energy for about half the week. So when we do homemade, I’ll cook and cover ingredients. When we get delivery or carryout, you cover that cost and go pick it up if necessary. And if it seems like that needs to change, we chat.” Qrow had to keep himself from reaching out to Ironwood, touching his head or shoulder - trying to soothe him, take away some of the strain he seemed to lean against so suddenly. They weren’t there yet. 

Ironwood had stopped rubbing his eyes in the course of Qrow’s offer. He listened, and nodded when Qrow was done. “That certainly sounds fair. And neatly avoids either of us having to accept a favor.” A tiny smile curved his lips for a bare moment. 

_Good,_ Qrow thought, _See what I’m doing and be comfortable for the thought of it._ Aloud, he asked, “So, important personality question time: What do you like on your pizza?”

“Anything as long as it’s not pineapple.”

“... _heathen_.”


	7. Hiatus and snippets

Hey guys, Euss here. 

I'm not sure when I'm going to write in this again. I've been a bit off on RWBY in general, and I'm finishing up at the boatbuilding school that was the inspiration for it in any case. Reading back over the last chapter, I'm remembering why I loved this story, so I might well pick it up again in future, but not right now.

In the mean time, I was always writing this in a non-linear fashion, so I have a number of scenes written that come later in the story. I'm going to be publishing them in a separate work linked to this one, and if I do pick up writing again they'll be re-published here, in their proper place in the timeline.

Thank you for your support of my cute lil fluff AU, and stay safe!  
Eussoros


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